Big Sexy Love: The laugh out loud romantic comedy that everyone's raving about!

by Kirsty Greenwood

  I can’t even blame this behaviour on booze. Unlike everyone else in the bar who is now completely sozzled, Seth and I stopped drinking beer after our first two bottles and now I’m sipping water and Seth is on root beer.

  After a game of pool in which Seth won, mostly because we had to get it over and done quickly because a couple of the other bar attendees were giving us the daggers, we ate some peanuts and Seth taught me how to throw them up in the air and catch them every single time. The trick is to aim to where you think the nut is going to hit your nose and it will always land in your mouth. Such a pointless exercise, but fun.

  And then we got onto the topic of Seth’s audition tomorrow. I asked him to show me his routine, which he did. And it was brilliant! When he’s not stealing my likeness for sketch material, he is actually very, very funny. I can see why it’s his job. He told me he needed to do an impression as part of the audition and that he had settled on John Malkovich because it was the only one he could do. I asked him to show me and he did this whole bit where he was John Malkovich doing a red carpet interview. As he was talking, a little thought popped up in my head and really made me laugh.

  ‘It’s terrible isn’t it?’ Seth said as I giggled, his face flushing slightly pink.

  ‘No! It’s a really good John Malkovich. I just… An idea just burst into my head and it made me laugh.’

  ‘Oh, well you have to tell me now.’

  ‘It’s daft.’

  ‘Go on!’

  I rolled my eyes. ‘All right. I just thought that it might be funnier if, instead of having John Malkovich do a red carpet interview, he would maybe be…’ I trailed off, feeling embarrassed. I had no right telling a comedy writer what might be a funnier thing to do.

  ‘Yes?’ Seth said. He looked genuinely interested.

  So I carried on. ‘So, like, John Malkovich could be teaching his friend the Macarena. I don’t know why he would, but it just made me—’

  ‘I love it!’ Seth said immediately, with a big bark of laughter. ‘It’s ridiculous. I love it.’

  ‘Really?’ I beamed with pleasure. ‘Ha ha!’

  And so for the past forty minutes I’ve been teaching Seth the Macarena and making suggestions to the rest of his routine, most of which he’s actually taken on. And to my great astonishment I am having the most fun I’ve had in years. The last time I laughed this much was when Donna tripped over a toddler in Asda and flailed forward, headbutting the toddler’s dad in his goolies. She was not impressed when I suggested that she’d legit just cheated on Alex.

  ‘Are you sure you’ve never written funny stuff before?’ Seth says, shaking his head, after I suggest that John Malkovich dramatically recites the words to the Macarena, rather than sing them.

  ‘God, no!’ I say, embarrassed and pleased in a silly, vain kind of way.

  ‘You’re a natural.’

  I feel my cheeks stretch into a gigantic smile. Maybe he’s just being flirty. But I don’t care. It’s nice to feel like I might be good at something beyond filleting cod and noticing where all potential hazards within a five-metre radius might be.

  After we’ve perfected the impression and the Macarena routine, much to the amusement of Phyllis, Sonny and a few of the other patrons, we take a seat back in our booth and order another pizza.

  Over more delicious slices and with nothing else to do until the storm passes, Seth and I dive right in and talk about our lives. His attitude to things is so similar to Birdie’s. His main aim in life seems to be to have fun and if things go wrong then ‘fuck it! It is what it is!!’

  I shake my head in disbelief.

  Seth takes his glasses off and cleans them with the edge of his T-shirt. ‘So what happened?’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘What happened to make you so het up all the time? Not to be an armchair psychologist, but everyone’s defects can usually be traced back to events of their younger years. For example. I might seem easy and breezy to you, but part of me is just a tiny bit concerned that if I take things too seriously and they don’t work out then I’ll never fully recover. And that probably has a lot to do with my dad never making it as a stand-up. It was his whole life. His whole heart. And when it didn’t work out, he never got over it.’

  ‘So… if you don’t try, you can’t fail?’

  ‘Exactly!’

  ‘Yep, that’s total armchair psychology.’

  Seth laughs. ‘So what about you? What’s your mess?’

  ‘It’s boring,’ I say, pulling a face. ‘It’s not even a big deal.’

  ‘Tell me.’

  I take a deep breath. The only person I’ve ever talked to about this is Birdie. After Dad moved to Scotland, Alex and I never really discussed it again. Just went along with our lives, pretending it was super normal for our parents to so easily leave us when we were still pretty damn young.

  I pick up a beer mat and fiddle with the corners of it. ‘My mum had an affair and left our family for a French dude. She lives in France. We barely speak. The whole thing broke my dad and he moved to Scotland. I had no clue it was coming. It knocked me and my brother for six. I was gutted. Really very gutted, you know?’ I take a sip of water. ‘I guess I decided that the best way to avoid feeling like that ever again was to make sure I kept my life as simple as possible, be prepared for any situation I could. If things are under my control, then there won’t be any more nasty surprises. That was the worst I’ve ever felt. And I don’t want to feel like that ever again.’

  Seth gives me a sad smile. ‘You know that’s impossible though? You can’t be prepared for everything.’

  I shrug. ‘I know. It’s not ideal. Birdie is forever telling me to just relax. That I’m stronger than I think. I don’t know… Life might not be a thrill a minute, but I’ve always been… fine.’

  ‘But are you happy?’ Seth asks bluntly. ‘Do you ever feel, like joyful?’

  ‘Of course!’ I say, laughing as if it’s a daft question. But even as I say it I’m not entirely sure it’s true…

  After the serious chatter has ended, Seth tries to lighten the mood by putting Bruce Springsteen on the jukebox and engaging the rest of the punters in a dance-off. The camaraderie in the bar is juxtaposed by the flashing images on the big-screen TV of the damage the storm is doing in some residential neighbourhoods. No-one has been hurt, but it’s all pretty high-octane stuff.

  I join Seth on the dance floor and try to bust a few moves in an effort to chase away the navel-gazing that our conversation has brought. But I keep thinking about going back to real life next week. To chomping my Weetabix every morning, getting my tram to work, serving the regular customers, moving my stuff into the box room, watching box sets with Alex and Donna. Week after week. After week.

  Somehow, the notion doesn’t sound quite so comforting as it did a few days ago.

  ‘I think I might go to bed!’ I yell to Seth over the booming music.

  ‘Are you okay?’ he shouts back.

  ‘Yeah!’ I nod, rubbing my eyes. ‘Just, it’s been a full-on day! And I’ve so much to do tomorrow. As do you! A good sleep will help you with your audition!’

  Seth laughs. ‘You really do think of everything.’

  ‘Are the rooms just upstairs? I’d ask Phyllis, but I don’t want to interrupt her fun,’ I say, nodding over to where Phyllis is being twirled about on the pool table by one of the sloshed punters.

  ‘I can show you,’ Seth yells.

  Following Seth round the back of the bar, we go through a door into a vestibule. A set of narrow stairs lead us to another hallway covered in flock wallpaper and framed pictures of the Staten Island Yankees.

  ‘This is you!’ Seth says, pushing his glasses up his nose. He giving me a sidelong glance.

  The mood shifts. We both go quiet, the only sound the bassy beat of an Alabama Shakes song playing downstairs in the bar.

  ‘Great!’ My voice has gone all high-pitched. ‘Where are you? I mean. Not that I … I mean… oh never mind.’

&nb
sp; Shut yo mouth, Olive!

  ‘I’m in that one.’ Seth bites his bottom lip and points to the room next door to mine.

  ‘Super!’ I brush my hair out of my face and tuck it behind my ear. ‘Okay! Well!’

  ‘I’ve had a good day,’ Seth murmurs, frowning slightly, almost as if he’s surprised by the fact.

  ‘Me too,’ I nod, and realise that I’m not just being polite, that it’s the truth. It’s been complicated and hard and a bit scary. But I feel, I don’t know… alive? ‘Thank you for—’

  ‘No problem.’

  We stand there. Seth looks at me, scratches his jaw and gives a little laugh. I laugh too. I have no idea what we are laughing about.

  I put my hand on the doorknob behind me.

  But I don’t want to go in yet.

  Kiss him.

  I want to kiss him.

  What the fuck?

  I really, really want to kiss him. I want to do more than that. I want to… be in a library with him. Argh.

  Open the door and leave, Olive. This cannot be a good idea. Leave right now.

  Seth takes a step towards me.

  I freeze, my heart beating so loudly that it’s reverberating through my whole body. Even my vajeen.

  I swallow, making an audible gulp like someone in a cartoon.

  Seth takes hold of my hand and runs his thumb over my palm. ‘If you weren’t engaged to another man, Olive, I’d kiss you so good right now that you’d never forget it, not for the rest of your life.’

  I blink, baffled.

  Engaged?

  Engaged to who?

  Oh shit! Colin! I had totally forgotten about Colin. Colin my fake fiancé! Colin the man I am planning to have an indoor date with upon my return to Manchester. Colin!

  Seth’s face is so close to mine that I can smell him – beer and clean skin and rain.

  I want to…

  I want to…

  Oh my goodness I want to…

  But before I can do anything, Seth has promptly turned around and walked straight into his room, closing the door behind him.

  I blink, shocked, and slowly back into my room.

  I lean back against the door.

  I can’t breathe. My head is all hot. I feel dizzy and tingly.

  But not in a bad way. In… an awesome way.

  What the fuck?

  I jog into the little en suite and splash my face with icy water. I peer up at myself in the mirror.

  I look different. Flushed and shiny-eyed. My lips look plumper.

  I look… horny. I have honest to goodness storm horn!

  I picture Colin’s sweet face, his big arms, his stellar weather banter, his glorious sideburns, and try to recreate the zingy KAPOW feeling I just got from Seth.

  But it doesn’t bloody work. I try to picture Colin naked, sitting at a desk and working on a five-year plan. Then I picture Colin naked baking me a cake and just generally being a naked baker, frosting smudged sexily on his cheek. I even picture Colin pinning me up against a huge bookcase and kissing my neck.

  None of it works!

  I turn to the bed and throw myself on it dramatically.

  Then I think about what Seth just said about kissing me so good that I’d never forget it, not for the rest of my life.

  KAPOW. KAPOW! FIZZ! BLAM! WOO! YAAAASSS!

  Well.

  I definitely did not prepare for this.

  I’ve had about an hour’s sleep all night! I felt wired and alert and so literally hot that I had to sleep naked. The only thing I could think of was that all Seth would have to do is walk a few steps down the hall to my room. Or all I would have to do is walk a few steps down the hall.

  And then…

  Nothing. No. I live in England. He lives in America. I barely know him. Plus he has heard me pee. PLUS he put that little detail in our history on live television. Not sexy. Not sexy at all, Olive.

  Bleary-eyed, I have a shower in the en suite, rub my hair dry with a towel – grumbling as it springs right back up into the mass of uncontrollable curls – and get dressed.

  I grab my satchel, checking for the bazillionth time that Birdie’s letter is safely tucked inside, open the door of the room and step out into the hallway.

  At exactly the same time as Seth.

  ‘Good morning!’ he says brightly, cheerfully, as if he had a full night of sleep.

  ‘Yes! It’s morning!’ I mumble nervously, like a psycho.

  Seth shoves his hands into his jean pockets. ‘Did you sleep well?’

  ‘Yes, definitely!’ I answer firmly. ‘I slept so well. So well.’

  ‘Great. Well, I Googled and the storm has cleared so we can get back to Manhattan right away.’

  My heart kicks with relief.

  ‘Amazing. I can finally get this letter to Chuck Allen! At last!’

  ‘That’s so great.’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Yeah!’

  ‘Okay!’

  ‘Okay.’

  We study each other for a moment. I brush a curl away from my forehead. Seth cocks his head to the side. ‘So, um, I’ve just got to—’

  And then, all at once he steps towards me, pushing me up against my door, his body pressed against mine. He cups the side of my face with one hand and places the other hand on the back of my head. His gaze flicks down to my lips. Then back up to my eyes.

  ‘Hi,’ he murmurs, a slight frown on his face.

  ‘H-hello,’ I croak.

  And before I can even make sense of what is happening right now, Seth’s lips are on my lips. Or my lips are on his lips. Either way, we are kissing. We are kissing our lips together. We are kissing SO GOOD.

  Seth moves his hands from my face to the small of my back, pulling me even closer to him. I swing my arms up around his neck and kiss him back like I am dehydrated and he is water. He runs his hand up my outer thigh, then his thumb down the front of my thigh and I can’t quite catch my breath.

  Boy oh boy oh boy.

  ‘Hey! This is a respectable establishment!’

  We immediately jump apart at the gruff sound of Sonny’s voice. He’s at the top of the stairs, chunky arms crossed, thick dark brows furrowed. Phyllis is standing next to him, wearing a very tight bandage dress and raising an eyebrow judgmentally.

  ‘Oh my gosh, sorry!’ I squeak. ‘I didn’t know you were there!’

  Seth doesn’t say anything. Just reaches for my hand lightly, trying to catch his breath.

  I know for a fact that my face is turning crimson with guilt.

  Sonny and Phyllis burst into laughter.

  ‘Only kidding, ya dummies!’ Sonny bellows.

  ‘But if ya gonna fuck, do it in the room, right?’ Phyllis says. ‘I don’t wanna see genitals in the communal areas.’

  ‘At least not before lunch,’ quips Sonny.

  My face absolutely burns. Am I sweating? I feel like I’m sweating.

  ‘We’re leaving now!’ I say in my most professional, polite voice. ‘Thank you for your hospitality.’

  ‘Anytime, honey. It was our pleasure.’

  Sonny wiggles his eyebrows. ‘But not as much as yours, huh?’

  Oh god.

  ‘Seth, your aunt Patty is in the kitchen. She heard you were here and wanted to say hi. She’s making you waffles.’

  Seth looks at me, a half-smile on his face. ‘You want some waffles?’

  I shake my head, feeling all flustered. ‘I should, um, I should probably go. I have my appointment… I’ll be fine to get back on my own.’

  Seth squeezes my hand a little before letting go. ‘Okay, so… I’ll see you tonight? At the show?’

  ‘Yeah!’ I nod. ‘Shall we swap numbers?’

  I sound like a fifteen year old.

  ‘Sure,’ Seth says, taking my phone and handing me his.

  We enter our numbers in to each other’s phones, Phyllis and Sonny watching weirdly over us the whole time.

  ‘Oh, and here.’ Phyllis holds out her hand to drop something i
nto mine. ‘I wanted to give you this before you go. It will help you relax.’

  I open my palm to find a small, fat, oddly rolled cigarette.

  ‘It’s clean, no resin. Just pure herb, top drawer. You’ll see.’

  Weed? She’s giving me weed?

  I make to give it her back – besides Rescue Remedy I have never taken a drug in my life and I don’t plan on starting now – but Phyllis looks really thrilled at her kindness. And I must admit I’m touched that she thought to help me after she already helped so much yesterday.

  I swallow and quickly shove the joint in my bag. ‘This is really nice of you. Thank you, Phyllis.’

  ‘You’re welcome, honey. Hey, you should try screwing on that stuff. It’s incredible, right Sonny.’

  ‘Hell yeah!’

  Okay. I definitely need to go now.

  ‘Bye and thanks again!’ I yelp, shifting past Seth and Sonny and Phyllis and jogging my way downstairs and out of the bar.

  Once outside, I lean my head back against the bar window and take some deep breaths, gulping as much air in as I possibly can.

  The sun is crazy bright today, and beyond the slightly damp glitter of the grey pavements you would never guess that last night this here was the scene of a treacherous storm. It looks serene and quiet, like nothing at all happened.

  But something did happen. Something big. Something major. Something from which I don’t think I can go back…

  I had a sexual awakening. My vajeen has risen. And… I think I want more. Lots more.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Text from Birdie: YOU KISSED THE COMEDY WRITER? YOU KISSED A STRANGER! YOU GOT STORM HORN? Not sure that’s a real thing but OKAY! Who are you right now, Brewster? This is too exciting for me to handle. You know my heart is weak already! What does he look like? Wait… I’m gonna google him stat!

  Text from Birdie: Oh Olive. YASSSS. He’s got a Harrison Ford in the 1980s vibe going on. But, like, nerdier. In a good way. Hubba. Hubba indeed.

  Text from Birdie: Don’t know why you’re freaking out! Maybe you can have a one-night fling with him? A quickie before you catch the plane back. Just have a ride on him, see how you like it. Super casual. What happens in Manhattan stays in Manhattan. Not everything has to be a big deal, you know?